The Assimilation of Being
by Avis Soul
Summary: After Harry completes the task as 'Dumbledore's man' in the cave, we find that the locket in indeed a Horcrux. Somewhat Non-Cannon, Conflicted!Dark!Harry, Abandonment, Travel, Warfare, Dark Themes, Slash Undecided
1. 1

**Wow, I cannot believe that I have FINALLY gotten to the point, that I can publish this! I had wanted to make this into a longer chapter, but I was just so excited! I must thank the authors on this website, that have provided so** **much loving support for my venture. You guys rock!**

 **Now, since this is my first fic, I must ask: Please be kind? : ) It's okay if you're not... if you hate it; however, if you do hate it, just move along.**

 **Also take note that I am not a huge fan of switching Point-of-Views within a chapter, but in this case, I felt it necessary.**

 **A better summary is on its way.**

 **I suppose I will be needing a Beta.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter Universe.**

* * *

The Assimilation of Being

Chapter One

 _"And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."_ \- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

* * *

They had done it; entered the cave, passed through the lake, and drained the crystal basin. Dumbledore was currently lying a ways away, slowly

heaving but otherwise unresponsive. The hollow cave was once again filled with an eerie silence, which did nothing to calm his nerves. Yet, now that

Dumbledore had finished the potion, he thought, they would be able to leave soon. Harry had deduced the worst was over.

In the meantime, his attention was directed back to the empty basin, where the locket waited. He turned toward it slowly, prepared to face a new obstacle. He approached with caution now, to squash any impending surprises that may still be in store.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief; the basin was still empty of liquid, and the locket lied as innocent as ever. A pale blue light reflected on its emerald gems.

Now that he had a moment to reflect, it truly was a well-crafted locket. It was a shame that it had to be another tool for Voldemort's gain.

Harry reached for the locket, and thought of how it should have been used; as a gift to a loved one, perhaps? He wondered, would Ginny like something like this? He scooped the locket into his waiting hand. In those first moments while the locket lied in his palm, he saw Ginny's flaming red hair whipping around a smooth gold chain; her alabaster neck pulsing, underneath his very own long, slender fingers.

He closed his eyes, as a chill began to run up his arm. Harry stood, with the locket clutched in his left hand. He was no longer in control of his body. The cold washed over him, and all he could envision were these… his fingers lightly trailing over Ginny's skin. His thumb pressed down upon her milky neck.

Harry vaguely noticed his knees give way beneath him, and then he succumbed to darkness.

* * *

(Dumbledore POV)

Dumbledore quenched his eyes and gasped. He choked on air, while it filled his lungs, and deduced that he must have screamed for quite some time. It was dark, with only a slight illumination reflecting upon the crystal basin, many feet away from him. Remnants of the ghastly potion still passed through his body, leaving him weak and sore all over. His emotions were still quite rampant; anguish and terror continued to grip him, in momentary blips.

He laid for minutes, staring up at the cave's high top, as he attempted to calm the torrent images within his mind. The silence that welcomed him only served to worry him more, as he wondered what had come of his dear Harry.

Carefully, Dumbledore sat up and searched slowly for his wand within his robes. He pulled it out and conjured a great flame, which he placed in the very middle of the island. Almost immediately, he noticed with relief, that Harry was right there, standing in front of the basin. They had succeeded, he thought, and shortly, they would leave for Hogwarts, and mark this as an unforgettable learning experience. His voice hoarse, the Headmaster called out to Harry:

"I believe this evening has been a success, wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

Harry did not consult with the Headmaster. In fact, Harry didn't show any sign of response at all. Curiously, Albus Dumbledore watched Harry, who merely stood in front of the basin; his lips were thinned, and his eyes scrunched, yet they never wavered.

"Are you alright, Harry? I believe it is time for—"

Suddenly, Harry's eyes bulged out of their sockets, as he let out a large gasp. Albus' body jerked at the sudden movement. He watched Harry's eyes rolled back into his head, as his body began to tremble. Shortly after, Harry dropped the floor of the island; tremors continued to rush throughout the young man's torso.

Dumbledore inched forward in horror, as he watched the boy twitch. His own terror was filling him again, as he tried to think of what had come over Harry so quickly. Another machination of Voldemort's, without a doubt. Yet… what? What could Harry have possibly done, to excite such a response?

In an opportune moment, Dumbledore noticed a slight glint of gold, peeking through the tight clutch of Harry's left hand. Dumbledore's eyes widened as his brow constricted; he stared and thought with apprehension, what delicate process Harry must be going through in these few precious seconds.

* * *

The gleaming reflection of pool waters upon the roof of the cave welcomed Harry when his eyes finally opened. Simply, he felt good. Aside from lying on a stone floor, his limbs were unnaturally relaxed, and his mind was clear of wayward thoughts. He laid for some time, watching the slivers of light dance above him. He rubbed the locket's face with his thumb, tracing the emerald 'S' repeatedly. It felt meditative. There was a strange solace in this cave, he thought. He could lie here for hours… days, even. He wanted the cave to be his.

Unfortunately, his reverie was cut short, by the throaty noise of Albus Dumbledore's voice.

"Harry… Harry, we must leave at once. Danger still lurks here."

Harry scowled at the blatant disruption. Nonetheless, Dumbledore was right: They couldn't stay here. With one longing glance at the pool's reflection, he sat up to find Dumbledore sitting a few feet away… wand trained on him.

"Is it you, Harry?"

Harry squinted at Dumbledore, confused.

"Err… Yeah. Who else would I be?" Harry replied.

He noted a few things very quickly: His headmaster had not moved from where he had drank the potion, the wand was not only aimed at Harry, but was shaking… and the look of flagrant caution, which he regarded Harry with. His chest tightened at the implications.

Steeling himself, he turned upward, to look at the old man, in the eyes.

And while he looked into the eyes of Albus Dumbledore — questioning, suspicious — he saw something that should not have been possible for Harry. Within the trance of Dumbledore's eyes, Harry saw Snape in the Headmaster's office, and heard the murmurs of a conversation between the two:

 _"So the boy . . . the boy must die?_

 _"We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength,"_

 _"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment? … … Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter —"_

Harry had been violently slammed out of Dumbledore's mind. He stared over at the fragile Headmaster, whose wand shook, as he pointed directly at Harry. Anger that felt oddly foreign to him, began to well up within his body, fully directed towards the deceiving Headmaster.

Shock. Disbelief. Realization. He had somehow just legilimized his Headmaster. He saw Snape and Dumbledore… he heard the conversation. Back to reality, the professor was still pointing his wand at him.

Harry spoke in a harsh whisper "What do you think you're doing?"

But Dumbledore did not respond immediately. Instead, his features slackened, as if he planned to do nothing more than discuss Harry's Charms homework; his wand never lowered.

" _Harry_ … you must listen to me carefully, because you are in great danger. That locket in your hand is not what it seems." He said slowly. "Set it on the cave floor, and slide it toward me. Then, back—"

"Great danger? Great danger!" Harry's face darkened, as he leaned forward on his knees, still clutching the locket. "The only danger, is... Is— _YOU_! You lied to me! You've been setting me up all these years! Are you out of your fucking mind?"

He stared straight ahead at the Headmaster's raised wand, running through all of the implications. The obvious invitation to the Philosopher's Stone… the lack of intervention with the Chamber… Sirius' conviction… everything from the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and the fiasco from last year. Would Sirius have lived, if Dumbledore had listened to him? Of course. Dumbledore. Who had chosen the Dursleys for his caretakers? Dumbledore. Try his strength. Dumbledore. He must die. Dumbledore.

"Can you not tell, Harry? The locket is affecting you at this very moment. You need to let go."

Harry's eyes widened exponentially. Within the torrent of his anger, he felt a tinge of amusement. Suddenly, he whipped his head back, and barked a laugh. He looked from the wary face of Dumbledore to the locket.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. It's not doing anything to me." His voice rose higher "And after all this time, and you're still trying to avoid how you've betrayed me!" He threw the locket towards the Headmaster, pelting him in the chest. It slid down into the Dumbledore's lap. He picked it up gingerly, pressing it against his left palm. It was warm. He sighed.

"Let us leave, and discuss your concerns at Hogwarts."

"Lower your wand, and we'll talk right here."

"I will not."

"YOU WILL!"

Suddenly, a force sped its way from Harry's torso, directly towards Dumbledore, effectively yanking the wand out of his hand. Harry looked on in awe, as Dumbledore's mask was replaced with horror once more. They watched as it flew to the right, clattered upon the ground, near the fire in the center of the island.

Dumbledore turned back to Harry, and considered him with acute observation. His brows furrowed, while he stared down at his empty hands.

"Very well. Tell me, what do you intend to do, then? Leave England? Hide away? The world's problems are not going to go away, simply because you choose not to face them. What other choice do you truly have? You will never live, while Lord Voldemort survives. You know this."

"I do have a choice… and it's to live."

Dumbledore gently shook his head. "It will never stop, otherwise. Lord Voldemort will never stop killing, and the only way to defeat him, is for you to partake in the ultimate sacrifice—"

"SHUT UP!" The Headmaster leaned back, as Harry sprang to his feet. His eyes manic with rage. He slipped his wand into his hand, shaking, pointing it at Dumbledore.

"I'm not going to sacrifice myself, you old madman!"

"Then the lives of the innocent are already forfeit. Will you not consider your friends? Ronald? Hermione? Or how about sweet Ginevra?"

Harry twitched. There was a great tension growing within his chest that skewed his concentration. He tried to avert his attention back to the conversation.

"They'll be fine. They're strong." Harry said.

"What of their families? Is it fair to leave them to fend for themselves? To live in secrecy, or to simply die? Your choice is quite selfish, Harry."

Harry's response came out in an irritated hiss "Don't think I can't tell what you're doing… you can't guilt me into offing myself."

As he stared, Dumbledore began to morph in front of Harry, into a much more decrepit version of himself. As if on que, the Headmaster sighed, and slumped closer to the floor, dejected.

"Then we have nothing more to speak of tonight. Let me say one last thing, Harry. Don't forget who you are."

Harry's chest tightened more. He still stood just a few feet away from Dumbledore, wand only half raised. Why would he ever forget who he was? Always… so cryptic.

"How could I ever?" he whispered.

And Harry watched halfheartedly, asDumbledore lifted the blackened hand. Hopeless. Lost. Defeated. Moments went by, without a word from either. When Dumbledore looked back up at Harry; his eyes twinkled once more. For the first time since Harry had woken up in the cave, the old man smiled at him. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Forgive me, Harry. You were such a sweet child."

Too quick to react, Dumbledore procured another wand, swishing it in the air between the two. His spell swiftly illuminated the cave, creating a streak of silver throughout the hollow cavern. As a white light flooded the space between the two, advancing toward Harry, he felt the pressure in his chest finally burst. In a trance, he swiftly lifted his own wand.

Quickly, effortlessly, the two most dangerous words in the wizarding world escaped his very own lips:

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Green met white a foot away from Harry's outstretched arm, and collided with a spiraling crackle. Harry's dark spell ripped through Dumbledore's, effectively expiring the unknown spell. Harry gazed for the last time, as his Headmaster's face expressed pure shock, fear, and then acceptance. The killing curse met Albus Dumbledore directly in the center of his chest, lifting him, and sending his limp body back. The body fell with a loud 'thump' near the edge of the island.

The only sounds left, were of the quiet snapping of fire, and Harry's own panicked breaths.

He stared at the body of Albus Dumbledore, as if expecting him to get up, and brush off his robes. It was over. He had murdered the Great Albus Dumbledore... Headmaster of Hogwarts, and leader of the dark resistance, among his many other roles. After some time, he felt his body relax once again. He looked up, to see the slithering silver lines, once again. And as before, he was interrupted by a familiar voice:

"Dump the body into the lake. We shan't leave a trace of our misgivings."

Harry jumped at the sudden addition of the voice. Indeed, he was familiar with it. Harry turned around with caution, to come face to face with the tall, pale figure of none other than a young Lord Voldemort. He hadn't aged a day, since the Hepzibah Smith memory. His face was just as gaunt, and his hair hung in the exact same angle. Most disturbingly, Harry thought, was the slight look of approval he shot Harry, before moving towards the flame pit. Tom Riddle bent down and picked up the discarded wand of Dumbledore's, holding it above his frame, turning it every which way in the light.

Harry, on the other hand, stood in place, unsure if any sudden movement would mean a curse aimed for him, now that this younger Dark Lord had secured a wand. He noticed that the locket still laid where Dumbledore had been, shortly before he had killed him.

"He was right, you know." Tom Riddle motioned towards the locket, while continuing to observe his new wand. "It's empty now. I have you to thank, for that."

Harry's mind raced to understand what he was saying. Realization struck Harry, in a way that made the idea of sacrificing his life all the more inevitable. This Lord Voldemort was a Horcrux — and somehow... he had set him free.

* * *

 **AN: So... we can assume many things from this first chapter. Although I don't want to give it all away, I do feel that it is important to note, that Harry will not be this... aggressive... throughout the story. I am sure all of you can figure out why he is at this time. He will morph over time though, mentally and perhaps physically. It's the nature of the beast.**

 **As for if this is a slash fic or not, I haven't decided just yet. I feel that Locket TMR should have an influence on Harry's future choices, but I am unsure if he should be a warped love interest, or just a puppet master of sorts... something like that (or both, of course!) Which ever I choose, will undoubtedly change the direction of the story, somewhat.**

 **Will this be a long story? I'm not sure, since this is the first fic that I have ever had full intentions of publishing and completing.**

 **Oh, and of course... note the Deathly Hallows reference above.**

 **Thanks to all in advance, for reading!**


	2. 2

Opening Notes:

 **Remember:** These first few chapters are mostly preliminary to the main story. Hopefully what is drawn out, isn't too unbearable. We will soon spiral into super non-canon, to eventually fall back into our beloved Magical Britain.

Is it truly necessary to let you guys know, that italicized dialog is Parseltongue?

I own nothing.

The Assimilation of Being

Chapter 2

* * *

Harry's stomach dropped. Whatever hate he felt for the former Headmaster, was quickly replaced with distress.

He watched as Tom Riddle casually made his way towards Dumbledore, levitating the contents within the dead man's robes. Even though he couldn't see well due to the shadows cast by the fire, it appeared as though a few items had floated upwards, only to be snatched up within Riddle's free hand. Once pocketed, Harry watched in apprehension, as Tom guided the dead headmaster closer, toward the edge of the island.

The body tumbled lazily until its legs submerged within the dark water. Tom left the body as it was, and searched the rest of the island.

Harry was rooted to the spot, watching him, as his mind worked excruciatingly slow to understand his new situation. It just didn't make sense. How had the soul piece been released?

He thought of the Diary in the Chamber of Secrets, and how it had manipulated Ginny. It took an _entire year_ until it had the power to become semi-solid. Yet… there it— he was, real-looking and as dangerous as a Basilisk at a child's birthday party… in a cave.

And there was this nagging in the back of his head, that there was far more to this than he could fathom. Something felt terribly off about the situation, and he couldn't understand _why_. Maybe, he was losing his mind?

His thoughts were cut short by a great lurch in the water.

Defiled, mucky hands reached up from the pool and latched onto the arms, torso and robes of Albus Dumbledore. The body was pulled closer, inching rigidly. Last, Harry watched, as two more hands gripped the dead headmaster's face, effectively plunging it below the surface.

Within seconds the pool stilled, and Albus Dumbledore could no longer be seen within the dark waters.

It was odd that he wasn't very upset by the observation. He supposed that he had in fact killed Dumbledore in a flurry of fear and anger, so there didn't seem much reason to mourn. Yes, he was still mad at the situation Dumbledore had placed him in, but hopefully he wouldn't have to worry about it any longer. With Dumbledore gone, he couldn't shape Harry's life… or death.

Then again, here was the Dark Lord incarnate, he supposed, who may turn on him at any moment.

"Close your mouth and straighten your back. I won't have you look like a fool any longer." Harry jolted up at the voice. He hadn't noticed Tom standing so closely in front of him. "Take these." He held out a hand, which contained a wand, something he vaguely recognized, and the locket.

"You're still underage, so the wand should prove useful in the event that we become compromised."

"We? What makes you think I plan to stay anywhere near you?" Harry looked at Tom incredulously, but Tom in return merely curled his lips. Leaning forward, he replied lightly:

"What makes you think you have a choice? That I have a choice?" He tilted his head, mirth growing within his eyes. "Haven't you realized?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Riddle shoved the objects into Harry's gut. He stumbled to catch them in time. "We've outstayed our welcome here," Riddle said matter-of-factly while turning away. "Get in the boat. We shall discuss particulars later."

Harry wanted nothing more than to back away. Back away and refuse to do anything that Tom Riddle thought he ought to do. But then, he'd have to figure out how to get over the lake on his own. And had this little thought in the back of his head that Riddle might force him if he didn't.

So Harry stuffed the contents into his pockets and staggered forward towards the boat, to an expectant Tom Riddle. Taking one last look at the island, it was as though he had never stepped foot on it. The Dumbledore's fire was long gone. The eerie glow from the basin was all that stirred.

He wasn't sure how to execute a conversation with Riddle. Not so much that he wasn't sure what to say, but in those few minutes over the lake, Riddle seemed to take a peculiar interest in himself.

Harry observed in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. Tom Riddle's hands gently moved through his hair, down his nose, around his jaw and to his lips… then down his chest, groin, legs, and knees.

He eyed his hands curiously, speaking mildly to himself:

"It _almost_ feels tangible. I can sense a mild pressure, yet… the full experience is just out of my grasp." He looked up at Harry, considering him. Harry watched him in return, with raised eyebrows.

Tom abruptly moved forward, snatching Harry's wrist, pulling it back towards himself. Harry let out a gasp, as he tried to pull back, but Riddle's grip was too harsh.

Then, in an almost evocative manner, Riddle began to massage his pulse.

"Odd. How is it that I can detect the sensation of your skin, but now my own?" Harry tried to wrench his arm away, but Riddle used equal force to keep it in place.

"You're hurting me—"

Riddle ignored the statement.

"Tell me… what does this feel like?"

Without further warning, Tom Riddle provoked one of the strangest sensations Harry had ever been submitted to. Riddle held his palm upwards, open, as he slid an index finger up and down the center.

A shiver ran through his body, due to Riddle's stroking. Harry tried to pull away again.

"What does it feel like, Potter."

"It feels weird! Stop it already!" But Riddle continued without any inclination of Harry's discomfort.

"Wrong answer. What does it feel like? Skin touching skin?

"Yeah— I can feel your finger on me!"

"Skin or merely pressure?"

"I can feel the pressure of your finger on my hand! It feels like skin—STOP IT!"

He dug his nail into Harry's palm, just before releasing his hold.

Harry jerked back. He held his wrist gingerly, shooting a quick glare at Riddle. It was for nothing, as Riddle had already returned to examining himself.

He supposed it wasn't all that strange, after all. Of course, being a shard of a soul, anchored to an object was nothing but unsettling.

Then again, Tom Riddle's interest in his own body made sense; he had been locked away for only Merlin knows how long. Could a soul piece remember having a body?

"You're taking all of this surprisingly well."

"Yeah? Well I don't wanna die, and you're not giving me a lot of room to say or do anything."

"No?" He looked up from his hands, features settled in cool amusement. "Were the revelations this evening… metamorphic?" Riddle asked.

Harry was very much dissatisfied and unamused. It hadn't occurred to him that the young Dark Lord would settle for invading his privacy, over cursing or killing him. Riddle had hardly scorned him; not once cursed him. In fact, if 'civil' were a term in Riddle's dictionary that would be precisely what he has been, thus far.

All of this… was incredibly unexpected. Harry was resolute in his shock.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he hadn't felt like his normal self since touching the locket. Of course, Riddle seemed to know why, but was refusing to explain any further.

He added Riddle's obvious legilimency and his own shifting attitude, to the long list of questions he had for the other.

Burying his head within his crossed arms, he responded sullenly: "I don't know. I'm not sure how to respond to any of this…"

Riddle adjusted his posture. He looked beyond Harry.

"Fair enough." He said blandly.

The two remained silent for the rest of the distance.

Once it was over, Harry stood up with unsteady knees.

As they made their way towards the open world, a new thought caught his attention: He was going back to Hogwarts without Albus Dumbledore. He had murdered Albus Dumbledore, not even an hour previous… would he be able to pull this off?

* * *

He had honestly expected to argue with Riddle over returning to Hogwarts. It seemed perfectly reasonable, that the other would whisk him away to murder him. Surprisingly, no comment was offered, as though Riddle had already known and understood what Harry had planned on doing. He was fairly sure that the other was skimming his thoughts but wasn't able to comment on it just yet.

There was a moment of relief, when he thought that Riddle had disapparated, finally leaving Harry on his own.

But then he came to an upsetting realization. Not even moments after Riddle disappeared, Harry began to feel _invaded_. Riddle was either telling the truth about their attachment, or he was just a bastard after all.

His first thought screamed 'Imperious!' Then 'Possession!' There wasn't enough time to react, before he felt himself being yanked by the navel.

To his disappointment, Riddle reappeared moments after Harry had remerged in one of the many dark alleyways at Hogsmeade. As his usual, he had to push down the desire to capsize. Riddle managed to unknowingly assist with that, when he successfully startled the younger one. Harry could head the monotone voice, loud and clear, as if it were in his very own head.

"Possession. No. Although I daresay I've encouraged your actions, thus far."

There is was again. That subtle invasion of his privacy. "How long have you been reading my—"

Riddle held up a warning hand, and Harry grimaced. Again, Riddle cut him off. He was growing ever more annoyed with the other.

" _I told you. We shall discuss everything later. We are being watched_."

Harry eyed Tom Riddle's hand with contempt, but did not dare move it. Harry looked over to the street, and understood who Riddle was referencing. Some ways down, there appeared to be a woman looking from her left to right, wand out and moving steadily in their direction. But this was Hogsmeade! She was probably just searching for her cat, or a trinket she dropped. Regardless, she didn't look threatening. At all.

He let out a breath of air. "Look, I'm getting really tired of this. I'm trying to understand, but every time I begin to speak—"

Tom's hand shot out and gripped Harry's throat lightly, just enough to startle. He hadn't even bothered to look at him. " _Do you truly know nothing about restraint?_ "

Harry angrily swatted his hand away. " _Restraint! You aren't telling me anything useful - you refuse to go away - what the hell do you want from me! I can't get two words in, before you interrupt me - and just because you haven't tried to curse me yet, doesn't mean that I'm just going to blindly follow every word…_ "

Damn him! Riddle had left Harry behind. He was strolling up the main street towards a woman, casting a great black shadow in his wake. The lamp posts appeared to dim upon his arrival. Yet surprisingly, the woman appeared unafraid, even eager, as she sped up to meet Riddle in the middle.

Harry stood where he was in the dark alley, straining to hear the exchange.

"Potter? Harry Potter? Is that you?" Tom had stopped walking. He stood a few feet away from the woman. She whispered in frantic breaths. "Is it you? Where is the Headmaster Dumbledore? I heard you had left with him this evening!"

 _What_? Harry's heart began to pound against his ribcage. Did everyone know that he left with Dumbledore?

"Madam… Rosmerta, correct? You would be the lovely and enchanting owner of the Three Broomsticks?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He knew the young Tom Riddle had a knack for flattery, but Harry was lost as to why it was needed right now. He had to get back to the castle, and hiding in an alley while Riddle schmoozed was unbearable. He'd be happy to leave the creep behind.

Rosmerta lost her composure for a few moments, while she simply stared at Riddle blankly. "Oh uh… why yes, yes I am… but uh, the Headmaster… where is the Headmaster?"

Tom brought his hands together at his lower torso. He held his newly acquired wand as if in prayer. He beamed at the elder witch.

"Well, if I remember correctly… to be honest it's a rather uproarious story. Would you like to hear it?" Tom slowly stepped forward, until he peered down at the short woman. She was undoubtedly flustered by the gesture, and appeared to battle with an internal conflict.

Harry was finished. He reared himself out of the alley, and briskly strode toward the two. Riddle didn't bother to turn his head.

Madam Rosmerta gasped as he approached, turning to focus on Harry instead.

"Potter? Harry Potter? Is that you?"

Harry stopped dead in his path.

"Is it you? Where is the Headmaster Dumbledore? I heard you had left with him this evening!"

He approached slowly now, to stand a small ways away from Riddle. Peering forward, he was able to catch a glint of light, which illuminated the cloudy look of Madam Rosmerta's eyes.

Harry choked on whatever he had planned to say.

"So. Rosmerta. Would you like to know what happened to Albus Dumbledore?"

Rosmerta responded, dreamily. Her vacant eyes still lingering on the true Harry Potter. This was madness. "Oh yes… will he be coming in soon?"

Harry could only stare in horror. He wondered if Riddle had done this to her, and if not, how long had she been in this state?

Tom continued in a whisper, a teasing pleasure seeping through his words:

"You see, Harry Potter here, uncovered that Albus Dumbledore was secretly orchestrating to have him killed. So Potter murdered him. The old man is currently lying at the bottom of a lake."

Madam Rosmerta's façade dropped. She took one step back, inching for a wand that should have been in her pocket.

Harry hissed "Why are you doing this?" Riddle batted the comment away.

"So, darling Rosmerta… I'm terribly sorry to the one to inform you. Dumbledore won't be able to make it this evening."

Rosmerta took off towards The Three Broomsticks.

Riddle laughed as Harry took off in a sprint after her.

* * *

A/N: Choose someone you trust, and ask them to shake your hand. Once they do, use one of your fingers to tickle the inside of their palm. It's one of the most innocent, yet violating sensations.


	3. 3

**I'm terribly apologetic for taking my ever-loving time updating this. It's been over a year, but hopefully** , **there's still some interest in this. These past 12 months alone, have been the worst of my life. While I'm not entirely through the wilderness yet (still homeless) the future isn't as bleak.**

 **Even so, I'm coming back to this story with a clear mind and one that isn't so critical of my abilities.**

 **I'll be honest, I only have a loose idea of where I want this to go, but wherever it happens to end up, I'll make sure it's a riot.**

 **We're going to have so much fun together.**

 **As a side note, I've usurped a WordPress blog under the same name for other short writings. The blog itself is 'Strange Spaces'. Also, I have a FictionPress account, again, under AvisSoul.**

 **To get myself back into the groove with this fic, I've been writing other little things here and there. Be warned, some things were written under the influence of wine. You'll know.**

* * *

To be blunt, Harry was a complete and utter mess. The evening thus far had wrought nothing but calamity, most notably of his own doing. Surely, if Harry stopped to think about it, to truly consider what had transpired, he would come to the conclusion that he, absolutely, without a doubt, had utterly lost his mind.

Of course, Harry was much too distracted. It wasn't every evening that one found themselves attempting to hide an unconscious witch. Nor was it common to unleash another Dark Lord onto the world, one that is even creepier than his doppelganger. Let's not even mention killing your very own headmaster.

Speaking of said Tom Riddle, Dark Lord or whatever this apparition was, Harry noted, had left him for the time being. During any other circumstance, he would be relieved.

For the moment, all he needed was to get Madam Rosmerta inside and away from possible onlookers.

It wasn't hard. Harry was able to stun her just before she had run back inside the shop. With a muttered Levicorpus, Harry pulled her body inside.

It was quiet, darker than usual. He had never been inside the Three Broomsticks after hours and he thought how strange it was to not hear the muffled chatter, clinking glasses and laughter.

The lack of sound made it even more profound when he haphazardly knocked Rosmerta's head into a set of wooden chairs.

Riddle's voice was soft in comparison to the screeching noise of disgruntled chairs.

"You're taking too long."

Harry jumped, his concentration waning from the spell. More screeching and oomph, as the witch's body fell, hitting all the same chairs as before.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared down at the disheveled woman.

"Yeah, so what ever happened to staying quiet? The whole thing about being watched?"

The shadows in the dimly lit establishment only impressed the curves on Riddle's face, making him seem even more real than in the light of the moon. He didn't frown or smile when he looked at Harry, but Harry could see a glimmer of something in his eyes. Riddle's wide, staring eyes.

"You refused to listen to my orders, so I turned to another method, one that I knew would gather your attention"

Regardless. She was under the control of another..." He turned his head an adjacent window

Harry's eyes lit with curiosity as he looked down at the tangled witch. "She was imperiused?" Harry questioned.

Curiosity shifted to suspicion, as the last half hour replayed over and over. He could see Rosetta's eyes; the strange, repetitive words which could only be the work of someone who-

"You knew, didn't you?" How could he have not noticed the strange way she was speaking? Of course she was! Harry's chest tightened as he narrowed his eyes at Riddle, the thing which had forced fear and humiliation upon him… which had done it just for hysterics, because what other purpose was there?

The shiver of boiling rage etched across Gryffindor skin. He was being had by… by another diary of the dark Lord, and this one didn't take any time. At all. Of course not, Harry thought. Then he remembered why the locket was so important… why it was a dangerous piece of dark magic… of Lord Voldemort's power.

Harry gripped his wand fiercely, spells and spite on the tip of his very tongue-

But… not a single syllable would pass his lips.

Numb fear trickled from his shoulders to his toes.

"It Is unimportant." Whispered Riddle, as he regarded Harry's wand.

Riddle stepped closer to the frozen form of Potter, who again, watched the other with trepidation. He had to kill it. He needed to overcome this bewitchment, this… this sedentary thrall of a dark illusion. He was real and Riddle wasn't… entirely. Madness!

Yet, Riddle merely turned away, void and clearly unconcerned over Harry's momentary bloodlust.

"I'd hazard a guess, due to the hue outside … They're waiting for you at the school"

Harry slowly turned his head, to finally notice the unnatural green tint illuminating Hogsmeade through the windows.

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest. He swayed where he stood, thoughts of what was wrong and what he needed to do racing and baffling his mind. He left Rosmerta on the floor, running to the windows. The name 'Draco Malfoy' resonated within his mind, throwing in all the possible implications.

Draco Malfoy had succeeded at bringing Death Eaters into the school and he was here, concerned with what now seemed insignificant in comparison. Students could get hurt… they could already be hurt, and Hermione and Ron… would they be alright? Could they be hurt already? Dead? But Harry refused to believe it. Instead, he focused on the desire to leave. Right. Now.

But he couldn't just leave Madam Rosmerta under a table.

"Forget her. She won't recall a thing when she wakes."

Harry nodded distractedly at the other's words.

Leaving caution to the wind, Harry left Rosmerta on the floor and Tom Riddle watching, in his wake.

 _She must have been fully prepared for me_ , he thought, as he grabbed a broom that was propped next to the main entrance.

Outside, a few scattered wizards stood on the main path, pointing and looking in the direction of Hogwarts, whispering to one another. It was easy to see now. The night sky was poisoned.

In a short period of time, Harry would find precisely what had transpired while he had been caught dealing with the barmaid.

Alone, Harry landed at the main entrance to Hogwarts. It was clear, even before entering that the castle was in pandemonium. Even through the large double doors, Harry could hear yelling and screams.

Spells of all variations flashed in the tall windows to only make him more anxious. He wouldn't wait any longer. He threw the broomstick to the side, fashioned his Holly wand and slid through the double doors.

It was easy to tell who was a foe, but the faces of the students were muddled. Students and Death Eaters alike were strewn on the floor amongst the fray, rubble and spattered blood here and there. No one noticed him.

Harry carefully made his way around the walls, looking for a face he knew.

Vibrant purple banged and collided with the wall inches from his head. Stone blocked his vision and dust momentarily filled his lungs, as he crouched over, coughing.

"Harry Potter!" Someone called out from the opposite side of the chamber and before Harry could properly react, everyone stopped.

No spells were cast; all focused towards the area in which the person had called out Harry's name.

The silence that followed could make the dead turn their heads to listen.

Yet,the air in the room had changed; the Death Eaters whispered, chanted, filled with a new, vital purpose: to weed out Potter.

The Death Eaters spread out, calling his name. Some sang it like it was the sweetest sound… others spat their intentions crudely. It was no matter for Harry, though… whether he was present or not, the rest of the school understood quickly that Harry Potter must not be found.

He need not react. The screaming of spells returned, now a symphony of "Harry Potter", "Stupefy" and something darker and more desperate than before.

He felt that foreign sensation tugging within, urging him to disillusion. It was simple. He knew what to do and where to go. He wouldn't be hindered.

Swiftly, he made his way around the crowd, stopping once to observe a wolf-like man, blood draped over his front and grazing the throat of a young girl.

He thought he should be horrified, that he should do something about it, but those emotions were muted. He didn't know who she was and her fate had been sealed. It was irrelevant.

He wanted to find Ron and Hermione. He needed to find Draco Malfoy. Now.

The halls and staircases were a frenzy of students running in groups, not going anywhere in particular. He had to take care that none of them shoved him on his way up.

A group of small Ravenclaw girls screamed, running from a short, wobbling man in a black, hooded cloak. Harry thought he'd make a quick example of him. As the man meant to run past him, Harry lifted his leg, tripping the Death Eater.

He didn't wait to hear the sound of snapping limbs.

Yet, the moment Hermione's voice came echoing down the hall, he shuddered, as the magical force that was the Dark Lord's soul released its hold on his person.

* * *

 **Last Note: I think… I would be able to update this frequently if I make shorter chapters. You guys won't mind, right? I could do a few long ones here and there.**


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